


Journal Entries

by Kenocka



Category: League of Legends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:05:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenocka/pseuds/Kenocka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Journal entries written by a young Rengar after leaving home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm attempting to write for NaNoWriMo for the first time ever. I don't know if I'll complete it on time but I do want to make the attempt. I can't guarantee the quality of the work because of this but I'll do my best to make sure it's at least bearable. The title is a WIP just like the rest of the work so forgive me for it. If you have ideas or critiques then don't feel shy to let me know.

I left my father's home just months ago. Already I am feeling the effects of this. My meals, already uncertain even with my father's hunting expertise, are sometimes days apart in time. I am certain that if I went to him that I would be fed but pride and my own determination to make it on my own do not allow for this show of weakness. Either I will prove myself over to Kumungu, make myself worthy of the gifts she has blessed me with or I will die. My body will become food for the forest before old age has a chance to lay his gnarled hands upon me.

There is also the matter of proving myself to my father. I saw the look in his eyes when I packed to leave. I saw the way he appraised my every decision. Doubt had lit a flame in his sharp brown eyes. My own father, watching me from the door of the room I'd spent my childhood in, did not believe I was ready to be on my own. I heard how his breathing changed whenever something went into my bag. Were I weaker of mind then that might have been enough to stop me.

It has been three months since that day if my counting and calendar are correct. Three months since the final gift I believe he ever intended to give to me came into my hands. The knife, a wicked looking thing, curved and as long as my forearm, is my livelihood now. It is serving me well and has helped keep me alive all this time. However the weapon is useless without its wielder knowing how best to use it. It has no power on its own. My father's teachings and this knife then, have helped to keep me alive.

The knife is one of the finest gifts I have ever been given. Thank you father.

Still, I plan to go back to see him when the year has passed. He will appreciate it and so will Maya. I know that she is angry with him for allowing me to leave without much preparation. She is angry with him over allowing me to leave before she was ready to let me leave. I cannot confirm it, but the woman was as much in my life as my father and is the only maternal figure that I have in my life. There are times when I do miss the way the two of them bicker at one another. It was never anything serious, always the squabbling of an old married couple.

Everyone is wondering when they'll make it official. Without my interference that might actually happen now. It would be funny to return to them and see more of Maya's things in my father's house than when I left though I don't think I would be able to spot the changes immediately. She's there more often than in her own thatch hut.

Both of them would be annoyed with me for thinking that of them but Maya's spent more than one night at my father's home over the years and the house has only two bedrooms made up. I never once saw Maya sleeping out in the open where I could see her and the two of them smelled of one another frequently.Their ridiculous denials are frequently the subject of much giggling and gossip in the village but no one holds it against them. What would be the point of denying one's own natural urges when around your lover?

My own goals other than surviving are to travel northward, around the dessert and to the mountains. I say around the dessert because I have no intention of walking into that sandy death trap. My father taught me how to survive but I do not feel confident enough to venture there just yet. There's no shame in admitting to that either. I am not prepared to brave such a harsh place at this point in time. I may never go there, Shurima is a wasteland that holds no appeal for me. It has dangerous creatures to hunt but what good is searching for them if the desert herself kills me before I get a chance to sink my claws into her beasts?

It is better to go around then, to head into the mountains that divide the continent in two and see what I can make of myself there. Father and I visited many places together over the years and it will be good to see those places again. The cool air and breezes of the mountains will feel good in my mane and fur. Maybe I will even make a home there. I would be able to travel more easily to distant lands if I was based there.

I await the coming days in eager excitement!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is 1001 words in total and chapter one is 810. So far this is great fun and is great for my headcanons for Rengar. Keep wishing me luck! I really do hope I can complete 50k words by the end of November! With any luck the chapters will continue getting longer and will contain more details as time goes on. I have many, many ideas I want to implement soon and because of that, the rating may go up later on.
> 
> Thank you to anyone checking this story out and thank you to the three people that have left me kudos! It's so appreciated! Please feel free to leave critiques and what you would like to see happen in the comments.

I have made preparations to cross part of the desert and the Voodoo Lands thanks to a fortuitous venture into one of the villages that I have made camp near in the last few weeks. A caravan of Shuriman traders were there! Making their way into Kumungu was not an easily achieved feat. They lost some of their number to the beasts of the forest and others to disease and sickness. Coming so far into the was forest harder still after losing so much in the ways of manpower and several of their own beasts of burden were lost to the same causes as their human members. They want to replenish their stock of animals and just as importantly, they want protection and are willing to pay for it. The traders fear bandits from their own arid homeland and stranger outcasts still that roam the areas between here and their intended destination, the Great Barrier, and are looking for guards!

Originally I had gone into the village to trade what I didn't need for goods that I cannot so easily make right now; if I had a more permanent home then I would be more self-sufficient. However this is an opportunity I cannot allow to escape. It coincides too perfectly with my plans to head north so I pounced on it with an earnestness that might have frightened a few of the travelers. As frightened as some of them were, their leader saw the sense in having me travel with them. Even without seeing me fight most are afraid of me based upon looks alone. Seeing a man with the head of a lion and the body of a man is not exactly common though I have heard that there are other creatures similar to me in other places. I will have to mind how I approach these people until they are more comfortable with me being around them. It is an irritation and a thorn in my side but nothing I haven't had to overcome before.

Eventually that will change. I will make myself known even further than my father so that all will know who I am by reputation alone and not just as the strange son of a famed hunter. People will no doubt still fear me but that will change as well! Fierce as I can be and as bad as my temper can get I do know how to remain calm. I have to draw on a well of patience born of my hunting experiences but it is not an impossible task, it's just that hunting prey is far easier than interacting with people. Their prejudices blind them to who I am and that makes any attempts at connecting to them difficult to say the least. That too will change. I will make that happen by deed alone.

Humans are so quick to judge and hate one another let alone people of other species entirely. My father raised me to be wary of how others would see me based upon my outward appearance. I have no illusions that I will magically rid the world of it's preconceived notions about my person, stupidity is not a stain so easily washed away. The people in many of the villages still treat me as subhuman. Those same people find themselves the victims of a cold and blasé glare. The weaklings cave to that look and the frozen words I offer them. I beat them with intelligence, not fists. As a child I did strike out physically but Father did not allow that for long. Reducing people's faces to ribbons of reddened flesh would not help them to see me as a man, only a beast that had been taught to act as a human. Father was wise enough to impress upon me how important it would be to hold my head above the infantile and ignorant remarks I will no doubt hear for all of my life. It's depressing to think about but I know I can do that. Father taught me all of his lessons well.

I think that, if possible, I will make sure that the caravan courses its winding way to the village my father lives near. There are goods there that the traders may find of value. I am ecstatic at the idea that could soon be back in familiar surroundings and with equally familiar people. It's been difficult to remain so far from the place I once called home. Weakness demanded that I return sooner but determination to live without the aid of my former caretakers won out in the end. There's a part of me that wonders if Father will be offended by my visit. Looking back on that day, the way that I left seemed as if I would never return. He did not make me leave, there was no argument between us and even if there was, he would never have thrown me into the jungle because of a disagreement. I was just disgusted with the idea of staying there, where I was safe and cared for, when I had been taught by the finest hunter in Valoran how to survive and thrive. My pride would not abide it.

It has been so long since I last saw him and I know that he will be glad to see that I haven't died to some creature of the jungle. Maya will appreciate the visit as well. She'll fret and fuss and my father will act as if he is made of the gruff stone that his hands feel like when angry but he'll be just as pleased, I hope. Maya will cook and make Father and I help, something that she insists is good for bringing people together. No one has yet to convince her otherwise and I see no reason to start now. It makes her happy and my father enjoys her smile in that secretive, contented way of his.

Going home will be a good thing. I feel it.


End file.
